


Half-Goodbye

by LeoDios



Category: Men's Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Boys Kissing, Crushes, Emotions, FC Barcelona, M/M, Pining, beginning of something
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28709148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoDios/pseuds/LeoDios
Summary: There's a New Year party for the team at Gerard's house and Shakira isn't there.Neither is Leo. Even though he's back in town. Antoine doesn't ask Geri about it. He hopes someone else does, so he can eavesdrop on the explanation. But no one does. People don't question Leo around here, in matters big or small. That's one of the biggest lessons he's learnt during his time in Barcelona.Antoine definitely has friends (and let's face it, certain family members), who see Leo as an obstacle to his success at Barca. They'd salivated at the thought of Leo leaving the Camp Nou in the summer. As if anyone could step in and fill his shoes. As if he, Antoine, was that guy.
Relationships: Antoine Griezmann/Lionel Messi, Lionel Messi/Neymar (mention of past relationship)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well it's been a while since I've written anything, so I'm tentatively stepping back in and writing my very first Messi/Griezmann fic. It's a pairing I am so interested in delving into, yet I am not that sure about the direction. So please have patience with me as I explore it with a very slow burning first few chapters. Any comments (and requests!) will be very, very appreciated. xoxo

Antoine kicked the wall so hard that he was afraid he might have given himself an injury. His foot radiated pain for a good five minutes. And now he had to go and talk to Leo, to explain himself. Because idiots - his idiot ex-agent, and his idiot uncle - had been talking shit. People who had nothing to do with him had seen fit to talk to the media about Antoine's struggles in Barcelona and how Leo was to blame for them. Leo who allegedly controlled everything at the club and had been cold and unwelcoming towards Antoine.

He decided to text him and ask for a meeting, rather than leaving it to chance, or lurking around waiting to catch him on his own. He felt a bit foolish but he soldiered on.

_Leo, I'd like to have a meeting with you to talk over something important. Please let me know when is a good time for you._

Leo's response arrived about half an hour later.

_If it's about the comments in the media, there's no need to discuss anything._

Antoine winced. Did that mean that everything was cool, or that Leo was mad at him and didn't want to talk?

His phone buzzed again.

_Unless it's about something else? We can talk after training._

Maybe he remembered that he was the captain of the team, Antoine thought, worry fluttering in his stomach.

After training, Leo gave him five minutes to express himself, in a small storage room next to their locker room, where a staff member could walk in any minute. They were both tired and sweaty, and Leo was bare-chested, distractedly using his shirt to wipe his flushed face.

Antoine struggled to keep his eyes off Leo's taut, muscled stomach - although it was equally hard to look at that carefully neutral, giving-nothing-away face, so that he ended up rapidly alternating between the two - while he rambled on. About how he hadn't spoken to his ex-agent in more than three years, and his uncle? Well his uncle was just an idiot who had no idea about football, and some journalist had acted all friendly and...

Leo had interrupted to say that it was fine, he didn't care about media reports. He'd been around long enough to know that all kinds of things were written and said. He added that he was surprised that he, Antoine, even bothered reading what those people wrote. His expression was still neutral, but Antoine remembered how Leo had been mobbed by reporters at the airport on his return from Argentina. He'd been asked about the comments, and Leo had mumbled about how he was "tired of always being the problem at Barcelona."

Those words had made him cringe because he felt that he caused them - caused Leo pain - even though he actually had nothing to do with them. He desperately wanted to say something about that and as he struggled to find the right words, opened and then closed his mouth, Leo coolly studied his face for a moment, shrugged and walked away, flinging his shirt over his shoulder.

*

There's a New Year party for the team at Gerard's house and Shakira isn't there.

Neither is Leo. Even though he's back in town. Antoine doesn't ask Geri about it. He hopes someone else does, so he can eavesdrop on the explanation. But no one does. People don't question Leo around here, in matters big or small. That's one of the biggest lessons he's learnt during his time in Barcelona.

Antoine definitely has friends (and let's face it, certain family members), who see Leo as an obstacle to his success at Barca. They'd salivated at the thought of Leo leaving the Camp Nou in the summer. As if anyone could step in and fill _his_ shoes. As if _he_ , Antoine, was that guy. 

He couldn't step up and win the match for his team against _Eibar_. He couldn't even step up and demand the ball when they won a penalty. Martin did, and he missed. Which Antoine found almost more humiliating than if he'd missed it himself. And with Leo watching from the stands. He knew the papers made entirely too much of the footage of Leo shaking his head as he left the stands at the end of the match. That every little thing Leo did, a shake of the head, a yawn during training, a quick glance at a teammate during a match, became front page news. And yet, in that shake of the head Antoine felt the judgment of the football god on he, Antoine, alone. 

Things seem to be getting worse and worse for the team, and for him in particular. Antoine had made up his mind that even though he's not the most outgoing person in the world, he's going to make another effort to get closer to Leo. 

New year, new connection. 

"I have no problems with him, and I never did," Leo had said, when asked about Antoine, in his latest interview. But what did anyone expect a professional footballer to say, especially someone like Leo?

He'd put on a dazzling white shirt - it makes his blue eyes pop, so he's been told - and a sharply tailored blazer. So he feels deflated to find that Leo isn't even here. He mostly keeps to himself, sulking and skulking in dark corners, and probably drinks more than he should. Eventually Geri, their gregarious host, finds him and plops himself down next to him.

"What, Frenchie?" he says, "Not having fun?"

That's when Antoine realises he is, indeed, pretty drunk. 

"Leo hates me," he mutters, and Geri howls with laughter. 

"He _does not_ ," he giggles, leaning against Antoine and mussing up his hair with two long fingers.

Antoine shrugs him off. There's a momentary silence and Geri suddenly speaks seriously.

"The best way to get Leo on your side is to show up on the pitch," he says, all matter-of-fact.

"Oh yeah?"

This isn't new information, but at least he's talking with someone - Geri, no less, who is one of Leo's oldest and best friends - about Leo, and Antoine realises that's something he really wants to do. He's like a teenager with a crush.

There's an interruption with the music and Geri gets distracted.

"Yeah," he says, standing up and then, almost as an afterthought, "And get a hold of your entourage, man."

Antoine struggles to sit up and give Geri what he hopes is a cold and penetrating stare.

Geri glares back at him like, _what?_

"Here, we don't like that kind of..." He rolls his eyes heavenward, as if deeply weary, "sending messages and making points through media proxies." He sounds disgusted. 

Before Antoine can react - he is drunk, so all his responses are slow - Geri walks away.

It's all so deeply unfair, he's furious. He leaves soon, getting a ride from Clement, not saying a word. Once home, he fumes alone, having another ill-advised glass of wine.

Then he picks up his phone and calls Leo.

"Hello?"

Leo answers on the first ring, so Antoine is momentarily speechless.

"Antoine? What's up?"

He decides he really likes the way Leo says his name. He lies down on his bed, holding his phone to his ear, feeling dizzy.

"Leo..." he finally manages.

"Yes. Antoine." A note of impatience has crept into Leo's voice. He wonders what he's wearing to bed. Or is he one of those people who don't wear any...

"So are you going to say anything?" Leo's voice is louder this time.

"Sorry! Leo I...how come you weren't at the party tonight? I..." He hates how his words are slurring.

He wants to say "I missed you" but even he's not that drunk.

" _You_ were, evidently," Leo says, "If that's all, I was actually in bed..."

Antoine looks at the time. Shit. And yet he continues in his clownish way.

"I wanted to talk to you, so I thought I'd do that. At the party. You know?"

"You can talk to me tomorrow, surely? We have training, Antoine."

"Say that again."

"What? We have training?"

"No the other..."

"What are you talking about?"

"My name."

And suddenly there's a little gush of suppressed laughter. 

Antoine grins. He feels really happy. This is how pathetic he is with Leo. One little sound over the phone can turn him from drunk and anxious to floating pleasantly on a cloud.

"Anyway what did you want to say? You said you wanted to talk to me?"

"It would be better in person." He has this great urge to see Leo this very instant. He even gets up, slightly unsteady on his feet.

"Okay, so tomorrow."

"No, no, Leo, Leo, Leo... _now_. I can come over. I got my car keys and..."

"No!"

Leo speaks in his firmest voice and it's like a punch in the gut. Leo doesn't want to see him. He doesn't want to see him _that much_. 

"Oh..." He drops the phone on the floor and crawls into bed, feeling wounded.

The next morning he wakes up with a headache. Thank god they only have an evening training session. He feels wretched. Exactly as wretched as a normal man should feel the morning after drinking way too much and making an ass of himself. He spots his phone on the floor and stretches down to pick it up. There's a text from Leo.

_I only said no because I didn't want you to drive drunk. I hope you know that._

Antoine lies back and squeezes his eyes shut, a grin spreading across his face. He feels stupid, so stupid. But something else too, like he's floating on a cloud.

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers the Huesca, Athletic, and Granada matches. Things are heating up between Leo and Antoine (but very, very slowly!) Hope you enjoy. xo

The mood is better after Huesca. Geri calls late at night, and although Leo doesn't really want to talk he picks up because he knows Geri hates being away from all the action.

"Griezmann standing by the Exit sign, looking morose...that's going to become a story isn't it?" he says.

Leo sighs. Geri always notices these things. "The optics" he calls it. He explains that the Manager is planning to play Griezmann in their next match three days away. He hopes Geri doesn't continue to talk about him. He's a bit confused about Antoine. He thinks he was flirting with him a little a few days ago, but he might have just been drunk. He's not sure how he feels about that and he doesn't want Geri barging into his business before he figures it out, but of course he does.

"About Antoine," Geri says, "you know how he acts like everything is cool, but it's not. Right?"

"Hmmm," Leo says, trying to figure out what the best way is to give nothing away.

"Yeah?" Geri irritatingly persists.

"Well, I know things have been tough for him," Leo says, keeping his tone non-committal.

"Yeah, yeah," Geri says, "I mean with you specifically."

"Come on Geri," Leo snaps, surprising himself, "I keep telling everyone I have no problem with him..."

"Whoah, whoah," Geri interrupts, "You're not talking to a journalist right now mi amor! Are you?"

Leo huffs. He makes an excuse and gets off the phone. He knows Geri won't drop it. He wonders how many of their teammates are wondering about him and Antoine, as if there's anything to wonder about. 

He hates this.

He hated it when it was Neymar. How everyone knew Ney was in love with him, because Ney was always all over him. How everyone knew when Leo started falling too, because they couldn't keep their hands off each other. And he especially hated how _everyone knew_ how heartbroken he was when Ney left, because it was so obvious.

That was the last time Leo had been so open and reckless with someone, and so stupid. It was the last time he had given himself to someone so openly, and so publicly. And as far as he was concerned, that was the last time he would ever do that.

*

The match in San Mames is a must-win-at-all-cost fixture, and Leo is having one of those games. Antoine refuses to be bugged or distracted by the way Leo reacts to Pedri's assist of his first goal, the way he opens his arms wide and waits for the kid to jump into them. Even the approval in his eyes when he hugs Frenkie after he assists Pedri's goal. Leo doesn't say much but you can tell who he loves playing with.

Antoine is determined to keep his focus. He doesn't score but finally he assists Leo. Leo jumps into his arms with a force that almost knocks the breath out of him.

Later, in the locker room, people are crowded around Leo. Frenkie, Pedri, Ousmane,and Jordi. he sidles up and addresses Ousmane in French. Ousmane turns to him looking surprised.

"You can't speak French, you know that," Leo says, smiling happily.

"I didn't know it was a rule."

"It is, it's either Spanish or Catalan. Otherwise these guys will never learn." 

Everyone is laughing, including Leo, but Antoine finds his eyes wandering to Leo's naked torso. The body so slim and tight, and the narrow waist.

"Anyway merci," Leo says, in a terrible accent, "for the assist."

"I might have to assist with your French," he says, without thinking. No one laughs. But Leo bites his lip, shyly he thinks.

He then steps forward and puts a hand on the back of Antoine's neck. It's warm and firm.

"It was good today," he says, and the way he says it - quietly, looking directly into his eyes - makes Antoine feel seen, and understood.

He feels overwhelmed. He swallows and nods.

*

Leo feels drained. He's sitting in the bus, huddled up right in the corner of the window seat, one leg tightly slung over the other. He knows it's not exactly a friendly posture - body turned away, and head resting on the window. But few people question him these days, especially with Geri being out of commission.

Luis had called. He'd watched their match against Granada. They'd had a fantastic game, four goals - two of them Leo's - clean sheet, away win. Leo misses him terribly. He can feel it physically, a pain in his chest.

The doors open and people trickle in. In the dim interior of the bus, Leo can see Antoine's shining blue eyes coming down the aisle. He has a slight smile on his face and Leo expects him to pass him by, sit with Ousmane or Clement, but he stops, hesitates for a split second, and plops himself down next to Leo.

It's funny, Leo thinks, he's always kind of been aware that Antoine has wanted to do this. Casually sit next to him - like he's entitled to it, like it's normal - but he's never done it before, his body clearly betraying a lack of confidence. And Leo hasn't helped, first by being naturally awkward and shy, but also by shutting himself away from (almost) everyone he didn't already have a relationship with.

Because he's always found it so hard to open up to new people. But especially right now, when he doesn't even know where he's going to be in six months time. When he's already said his half-goodbyes to this life.

Leo supposes Antoine finally feels confident enough, after having a great match tonight. A part of him cringes at the way people feel about him. It used to be easier before, when the world used to consider him a god, but to his teammates he was just Leo - friend, brother, sometimes lover. The team was his safe place, away from the chaos of the real world. But now that boundary is tenuous. Now they look at him starry-eyed, now they look at him as someone larger than life, he thinks, sometimes with suspicion, and sometimes even with resentment.

Antoine is leaning towards him, asking him something. He unties his still damp hair and ties it again, and the scent of his shampoo - something lightly lemony and grassy - fills Leo's senses. It's very pleasant. 

He looks at Antoine and sees him looking at him quizzically, a smile playing about his mouth. His lips are pink and shapely.

"What did you say?" Leo says, and his voice his hoarse like he hasn't spoken aloud in ages. He clears his throat.

"I was asking if you're okay?" the Frenchman says, "I saw you rubbing your leg and then Koeman pulled you out so..."

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, "A little pain. But you took care of things tonight, you know? You scored that fourth goal."

He tries a smile, but he knows it's probably a strained smile because Antoine looks a little confused. He probably thought tonight they could share a moment like two teammates, who'd scored a brace each, who'd both feel fantastic. He probably thought they could indulge in some post-match mutual compliments, a bit of bragging. But Leo is in a different type of mood.

"Your free kick goal though," Antoine says, like he's searching for something to say to bring Leo out of himself, "Uff." He shakes his head, smiling.

Leo tries to smile again.

"Are you okay Leo?" Antoine says, looking at him intently and then, "I don't mean physically."

"Yo Leo!" Jordi shouts from the aisle suddenly, "Did you speak to Luisito? He left me a message cos he couldn't get hold of you!"

"Yes," Leo calls out, and then louder, "Yep! Thanks!"

Looking back at Antoine, he sees that some form of realisation has dawned in the Frenchman's eyes.

He rubs his hands together, suddenly very cold. For some reason he starts talking, looking down at his hands, almost to himself.

"Luis," he says, "He was watching and he was like...he's still a _cule,_ you know? He enjoyed that." He stops and chuckles to himself, "So long as we don't catch up, of course."

He looks up and notes Antoine's eyes fixed on his face - that eager sparkle is gone, and what's this? A kind of muted light, soft and kind.

"I miss him," Leo finds himself blurting out, with uncharacteristic frankness.

"I can see that."

Leo nods.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be a downer."

"You're not."

Antoine has moved closer, and their knees are touching.

"No, no, I..." Leo tries again, "It was amazing tonight. _You_ were amazing."

"Leo, you don't need to do that."

"Do what?"

He's still rubbing his hands together and now Antoine catches hold of them - his hands are warm and soft - and stills them.

"Just. Be in your mood. I'm okay with that. I already know I was amazing anyway."

Leo smiles, and Antoine does too. Wide, showing his teeth. He's cute.

The bus comes to a stop, they're at the airport, and Antoine lets go of his hands - now much warmer - before the lights come on.

Someone announces that there's a slight delay with their flight. Outside, Leo walks away from Antoine, feeling a bit uncomfortable about how much he wants to keep talking to him. He finds Jordi and slings his arm around him and hangs on to him heavily, while Antoine drifts towards the French group.

They have to wait in the airport lounge for a while, and Leo goes out into the large, empty terrace. Whether coincidentally or because he's been keeping an eye on him, Antoine appears by his side. They smile at each other and they both look up to the dark sky, punctured with thousands of glittering stars. It's cold, the sharp air cutting through all their layers of clothes, but they're completely alone, and that feels priceless at this moment.

"You know what I was just thinking?" Antoine starts.

"Hmm?"

"If I had never left Madrid," his voice is thoughtful, "I'd be snowbound right now. Instead of here looking at these stars with you."

Leo looks at him. He's got his hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket. Wisps of blond hair flutter around his face. 

"You'd be top of the table though," he says.

Antoine's eyebrows shoot up, and he opens his mouth in mock shock.

"You really never stop thinking about football do you?" he says.

They both laugh, and then go back to gazing at the stars. Some moments pass. Leo glances to his side, and Antoine looks in his direction at the same time. They giggle stupidly.

"What should I be thinking about instead?" Leo says, trying to stop himself from smiling so much.

They turn to each other and step closer together. Antoine takes his right hand out of his pocket and places it gently on Leo's cheek. Leo can feel his heart thudding hard.

"This," Antoine says, his voice a low whisper, then bends down to bring his lips to Leo's.

The kiss - it is the searing hot centre in the cold, starry night. Leo can only gasp and part his lips as Antoine presses his mouth to his. Soft and exquisitely tender, with one hand cupping his cheek, pulling his face closer. And then he darts the tip of the tongue into Leo's mouth, brushing the tip of his tongue, igniting a sensation that starts in his groin and rushes through his whole body.

Now Antoine has both hands on Leo's face and is pushing his tongue in, sweeping it inside his mouth, deepening the kiss, slowly tangling with Leo's tongue and then, finally, taking a little bite of Leo's bottom lip as he withdraws.

He touches his forehead to Leo's, and they're panting into each other's open mouths. Leo notices that his hands are on Antoine's stomach, clutching the fabric of his jacket tightly. He doesn't want to move, he's greedy for Antoine's breath, that tastes sweet and fresh.

Leo opens his eyes to find two deep pools of blue staring back at him. Antoine smiles as their eyes meet, and their lips brush together, sending another jolt of electricity through him. Leo moans softly and closes his eyes again. Antoine pecks him on the lips - the softest, most gentle whisper of a kiss - once, twice, thrice. He moves his hands from Leo's face, trailing them down to his shoulders, and his back, before coming to rest on his waist. 

"Okay let's go!" someone shouts inside the lounge. Antoine sighs and moves his hands from Leo's waist, and Leo steps away slowly, reluctantly, his hands trailing over Antoine's stomach.

A voice, louder this time, at the door - "Leo! You out there? Let's go!"

"Ugh," Leo says, and Antoine smiles. 

"Come on," he whispers, grabbing Leo's hand, "come on, come on!"

He turns to Leo and plants two quick kisses on the side of his head before jogging towards the door, pulling him along. He lets go of his hand only when they reach the door, the garish lights and the buzz of their teammates exploding upon their senses.

* 


End file.
